


Falling for the First Time

by spookyknight



Series: I Bring Life Project [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyknight/pseuds/spookyknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose thinks 'well, this is a first.' The Doctor gets drunk. Really drunk. For the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling for the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Incidentally, I wrote this under similar circumstances. You know, for authenticity. So thanks to beta lastincurableromantic for fixing a couple things. The rest, you can blame on my own tipsy imagination. Submission to the I Bring Life Project, prompt: firsts.

_Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost_

 

Somewhere in the fog of her muddled brain Rose thinks,  _well, this is a first._

Which strikes her as odd. Because she’s known the Doctor for so long, it feels like forever sometimes. He’s been three different forms with her now. It’s like she’s stopped keeping score in her own mind. Stopped counting the number of times he’s reached for her hand or the sum of all their smiles and hugs and lingering glances. She’s stopped keeping track of all their firsts, and seconds, and thirds.

And it’s comforting to know there are so many of these wonderful things that it’s become hard to keep an accurate record. But now that he’s part-human, the promise of a future together is somehow all the more tangible. A reality made beautiful by their shared mortality, yet also so very fragile it’s almost heartbreaking.

Suddenly, it’s become greatly important to catalogue each and every moment in exquisite detail. So it never becomes old or dull. So they will never take this incredible gift of a shared life for granted. Every experience is worth commemorating. Even tonight. On the outside nothing special, just a random Thursday slumming in the dingy neighborhood pub. But it’s a first.

Her skin is buzzing, burning, singing. Nerve endings on fire. And if his off-kilter smile and reckless laughter are anything to go by, the Doctor is right there with her. Finally on her level. Drunk, smashed, pissed. There’s no ‘superior Time Lord physiology’ between them now, just the blind pleasure of human inebriation.

The pub is sensory overload. Rose struggles to process everything that’s happening around her but the details are fuzzy, falling together in a jumbled mess. The Doctor is joking, laughing, carrying on and she’s a few steps behind but joins in anyway, all grins and snickering.

The room is spinning, a colorful blur of fluorescence and neon, and the Doctor is leaning on her for support as much as affection. The driving bass line rocking the tacky floor beneath them crawls up through the wooden stools in a vain attempt to ground them. She’s dancing with him even as they’re sitting still.

Her lips and hands and tongue are restless. They should get out of here. The things she wants to do are not for polite company. Not that the company they’re currently keeping could be considered polite.

Somehow, they make it down the street from the corner pub in a flurry of sloppy kisses and rough caresses. There’s some dodgy moments there in an alley along the way, Rose pressed between the Doctor and a hard wall of unforgiving brick, but somehow they make it home disheveled but still dressed.

Wildly they crash through their doorway, all jangled limbs and drunken giggles. The path to the couch is a whirlwind of clumsy movement. There’s a lamp on somewhere. A flipped switch forgotten in a happy haze. It’s enough light to go by. To fumble with disagreeable zippers and offending cloth.

The bar was loud. Rattling conversation and catchy cover band music still rattle in her skull, belying the piercing silence of their quiet flat. Rose licks her lips, wetting them purposefully. She’s far too gone to meet his eyes. He’s too far gone to protest, sinking heavily into the couch cushions and watching events unfold in his lap like a murky erotic dream.

The delirium is creeping, crawling underneath her skin as warm hands and wet mouth conspire this race to the finish line. She envelopes his mortal flesh with desirous intent.

His gasps and grunts quickly fill the fizzling air around them. They reverberate down his body and she feels the buzz against the wet slide and pull of her lips, humming down her throat and up her spine. Her head is spinning and his is in the clouds, no, up in the stars where it belongs.

This Doctor may have lost his TARDIS, but he’s gained something different in becoming more like her. In losing himself to this sweet oblivion. The Earth tilts on its axis. For a moment, gravity, relativity, the stalwart passage of time are all for naught. There is only this, a mounting and ethereal spiral of mindless pleasure.

And Rose, well, she is just as lost. She is entranced in the heady feeling of drunken euphoria. Swept up vicariously in his ecstasy and striving to topple him over the edge into pure bliss. Her licks timed to the strum of a non-existent guitar. Her fist playing an escalating cadence to the erratic beat of his singular heart.

Her hot little mouth and wicked pink tongue moving in tandem are too much. The crescendo builds and breaks. All too soon it’s " _Oh, fuck!_ " and her name once, twice, three times. Thick honeyed words she rises up to swallow down from his slackened lips. They taste sweeter and burn hotter than any liquor she’s ever known. She slows the rhythmic stroke of her hand, drawing out his intoxicating climax.

He may get up to wash in the en suite, Rose can’t be sure. There’s a delicious, exhausted feeling sinking into her bones as she collapses onto the sofa. Pulling her down into the sultry allure of sleep. She’ll have a hangover to deal with tomorrow. Sore muscles and undoubtedly a crick in her neck from curling up here in the living room.

For now, the melodious lyrics from earlier on this crazy night tumble and echo in her tired mind.

 

_I’m so clean, too bad I can’t get all the dirt off of me_

_I’m so sane, it’s driving me crazy_

_It’s so strange_

_I can’t believe it feels just like I’m falling for the first time_


End file.
